Toybox
by Strike the Dirge
Summary: It started somewhere along the line as a vague desire for selection. And thus began Yunoki Azuma's taste-testing. YunoTsuki, shounen-ai/yaoi


Alright, I admit defeat. I concede that La Corda D'Oro has become an obsession. Especially Yunoki Azuma and his most delightful and enticing personality. He lures me to the dark side. And I follow. I follow like a sacrificial lamb marinated in sedatives and aphrodisiacs.

This- and any similar plot-bunnies to follow- is dedicated to any La Corda D'Oro fans who think there just isn't enough Tsukimori Len x Yunoki Azuma stuff out there. Or enough of Tsukimori or Yunoki _period_. Needless to say, there is gayness/shounen-ai/yaoi/whatever you want to call it. Enjoy, you wonderful nutters.

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It started somewhere along the line as a vague desire for a selection. Certainly, Hino Kahoko was entertaining. There was no doubt she was an adequate distraction when he desired one. Not to mention there was simply no _end_ to the number of insults one could contrive to rile her. But she was also annoyingly predictable and often so very _happy_. He needed new toys- after all, any man would go insane if confined to only a single food for the rest of his life. A taste of Kahoko after a long day of bland daily life was a nice way to spice it up, but now he found himself tiring of her particular flavour of cheery optimism.

And thus began Yunoki Azuma's taste-testing.

His first experimental play-date was with Tsuchiura Ryoutarou. He smelled like freshly-cut grass (unpleasant- Yunoki was allergic) and instrument polish (acceptable). His rough, crude appearance was an interesting change from the norm, and being towered over by his hulking stature felt like something of a refreshing challenge. When Yunoki invited him out for tea as a friendly congratulations on being accepted into the concours, Ryoutarou looked stunned and slightly bewildered but accepted with some attempt at politeness. When he found himself on a bench in a secluded part of the park with a neat little tea set laid out beside him and Yunoki in a clean yukata, smiling disarmingly and offering him a cup, Ryoutarou went from slightly uncertain to mildly fearful that he'd somehow gotten himself in over his head. When Yunoki then perched himself on the remaining three inches of bench on the pianist's other side and began to nonchalantly sip his tea, his long hair spilling daintily onto the expanse of pale nape exposed by his loose robe collar, Ryoutarou became at once decided that, though he wasn't entirely sure what was going on, he was quite positive it would likely not be good for his mental health. Or sexual preference. His stony-faced, monosyllabic replies thereafter to Yunoki's questions and comments and praise led the flutist to decide that Tsuchiura wasn't his next toy.

Shimizu Keiichi awoke from a mid-afternoon doze snuggled into Yunoki Azuma's chest. Yunoki-senpai smiled gently down at him, twined his long, graceful fingers into his wild champagne curls, pulled his head slowly and forcefully back, and leaned down to murmur a breath away from his lips that he shouldn't sleep so soundly out here in the garden with such a pretty face, or the wolves of the school might be unable to resist. Shimizu blinked sleepily and made a noise of understanding before slipping back into his impromptu nap. Yunoki sighed, nudged him off, stood up, brushed himself off, and wandered away in search of greater amusements.

Fuyuumi Shouko: He slid an arm around her lovely, dainty waist when she tripped on the stairs. She turned a delicate shade of unripened tomato and did a marvelous impression of an opossum. He carted her to the infirmary. Next.

Hihara Kazuki. As they shared a rare moment of peace together over some ice cream by the beach (Kazuki's idea, naturally), Kazuki began to talk about his song of choice for the next competition and Yunoki offered his friend the most dazzling, thousand-watt, polar-ice-cap-melting smile he'd ever mustered over the top of his ice cream cone, saying in husky (from the cold, of course) tones how admirable and inspiring Kazuki's drive and hard work were to witness. Hihara's eyes went wide, his mouth formed a small 'o', and his tanned cheeks went pink under the Cookies 'n' Creme smears. -And then came "Waaah! You think so? Yunoki, do you think Kaho-chan will be proud?!" Sigh.

One to go. The elusive Ice Prince Tsukimori Len was, as one might expect, in the practice area after school. It was hardly a great effort to 'stumble' in upon Tsukimori's practice, having 'accidentally' gone in the wrong room, and the stoic violinist bought it without a hitch. It was slightly more work to find an excuse to stay for long enough to perform his 'tasting'- he went with a tried-and-usually-true method of _'Oh-and-did-you-hear-what-they're-saying-about-Hino-and-_[insert name here]_?'_ It worked. His prey's wary attention now caught, Yunoki sauntered over to the window and leaned his palms daintily on the open frame with a deep sigh, as if disturbed and wounded by the crassness of his fellow human beings for spreading such slander about their dear Hino Kahoko. The breeze from the open window also gave a nice flowing silky sway to his hair- though while he suspected Kahoko or Fuyuumi might've been captivated by such a setup, he doubted the Polar Prince was even paying attention. He turned around to lean against the sill and gave Tsukimori (who had conveniently set up his music stand right by the window and was thus less than two feet from him) a hazy glance from beneath half-lowered lashes.

"Tsukimori-kun, what do you think of Kahoko?"

Len froze, the music sheet in his hand crinkling slightly as the informal and personal use of the name _'Kahoko'_ worked itself over almost visibly behind his eyes. They flicked up to meet Yunoki's, the pale green flecks in his tawny irises asking _'Since when isn't she Hino-san to you?'_.

"Oh my," Yunoki laughed gently, idly brushing a few strands of dark hair from his face. One fingertip ghosted over his smiling, parted lips. Tsukimori's eyes followed it. "That's quite a look you're wearing, Tsukimori-kun. Don't tell me I've said something wrong..?"

"...I don't think of her." Tsukimori Len's eyes, however, remained locked and unreadable on Yunoki's. This toy seemed to come with a most interesting game.

"Ohh?" Yunoki looked away, settling a distant and softer fond expression onto his face, his brows pulling ever so slightly inward and up, as if in relief. "I see..." Tsukimori's alarm was almost tangible, and when the flutist glanced back he was treated to a look more emotional and passionate than he'd ever witnessed on the other boy's face- his brow runkled, his lips taut, and his eyes wide. For a moment Yunoki wondered if he was going to hit him. But the violinist merely set up his crumpled sheet-music on the stand and stared at it, as if mulling this information over with difficulty.

Just when Yunoki was about to give up and take his polite leave, Tsukimori's emotion-roughened voice husked, "And what do _you_ think of her?" He bit back a grin of surprised amusement- he really hadn't had great expectations for Len; he was cold and emotionless and didn't seem to care about anything but his music. He just hadn't seemed _interesting_. Until now. He composed his face into a faint look of shock, delighting in the fact that his suppressed pleasure in the game had lent a rosy tint to his cheeks. Tsukimori was staring at him, his lips slightly parted now and trembling ever so faintly- _panicked_. _Desperate_. Yunoki's breathing sped up. He melded his look of startled embarrassment seamlessly into an expression of gentle and slightly shame-faced admittance and turned his eyes down to his feet.

"-Well, I..." He glanced up at Len without raising his slightly-bowed head, copper eyes smouldering from behind thick dark lashes and trailing waterfalls of soft hair, pleading with him, confiding in him. Tsukimori actually took a step back, flinching at the intensity of his heart-baring performance. Yunoki's pulse was pounding now- he would _never_ have imagined the other boy to be so interesting- playing his flute had never given him such a high. He struggled for a moment, as if fighting to say the words, and then drew his brows together with a bitter little half-laugh, pressing a palm to his face, fingers tangling roughly in his hair as he averted his gaze. "-Isn't it obvious..?"

Tsukimori Len's clenched fist was straining the strings on the neck of his violin. He swallowed several times, unable to speak, and turned his head away to stare hard at the wall, unblinking. Several long minutes stretched by without speech, and finally Yunoki slid off the window frame and moved to slip past where Len was quivering against the piano. He paused when he was beside him. Leaned in without turning to face him.

"...Aren't you curious about what she thinks of _me_..?"

Len didn't respond, just made a curious little jerking motion, as if Yunoki's breath on his jaw was a physical push. Yunoki turned and sidled closer, setting a palm casually atop the piano as his other hand closed around Len's far arm and pulled him around to face him, barely three inches away. Len's eyes widened. Yunoki's voice was little more than a hushed, dusky breath between them.

"Aren't you worried about her feelings..?" He leaned in even closer- intimidatingly close- intimately close- the proximity that says _'rival''_, _'back away'_, _'be afraid of me'_. "That she could be-..." The other boy made a sound like a helpless whimper, and he froze.

Tsukimori's breath was racing over his skin, his knees trembling (almost between Yunoki's now), his eyes wide and telling, and his cheeks, nose, and ears flamingly, desperately _red_.

...Somewhere, somehow, at some point, Yunoki had started playing the wrong game.

They stood like that for a long moment- Yunoki statue-still and still attempting to process the fact that he seemed to have picked up the wrong rule-book, Tsukimori quivering and scarlet and looking like a caged rabbit- an inch apart and both braced against the piano like a lifeline. Yunoki's fingers began to idly stroke down Tsukimori's arm, as they might've done if toying with his own hair while deep in thought. Len's breath hitched.

It snapped Yunoki back, and he blinked across at Tsukimori- his own height and probably stronger, but looking like he'd just been beaten to within an inch of his ego's life- and then he shoved him back against the piano and kissed him.

_'**Wanted:** The address of the teacher of French-kissing to one Tsukimori Len. Brain cells need not apply.'_

---

When both Yunoki Azuma and Tsukimori Len came in lower than expected in the next concours performance, they explained to their stunned fellows that it had been lack of practice time. To the other contestants' even greater shock, neither seemed to mind. Yunoki Azuma seemed especially smug about his fourth place and, when asked, informed Hihara it was all the fault of his new hobby, which was quite time-consuming. And demanding. Hihara's confusion turned to concern when Tsukimori, standing nearby, seemed to suddenly become feverish and excused himself. Yunoki, ever the gentleman, insisted he take Hino-san's place in making sure Tsukimori-kun made it to the infirmary alright.

Everyone agreed it was quite gallant of him, though no one was quite sure how a trip to the sick bay ended up taking an hour and leaving both boy's clothes and hair disheveled.

_owari_


End file.
